


A Jedhan lullaby

by bodhirookandor



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, IM SOBBING, although i sorta hint at romance?, broken apart and expanded more, idk but for now it's one long ass one shot, idk it could be read either way, maybe this should be like a whole series, read it and weep with me, this is mostly gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9855245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookandor/pseuds/bodhirookandor
Summary: He’s four when it appears on his body. A vine, it wraps around his wrist, a single leaf curling in the middle of his palm. Bodhi can’t help but stare at it, trace the mark with short chubby fingers. It’s beautiful, he decides with all the certainty of a four-year-old, maybe even the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Green with hints of red and brown, it fills him with security and safety.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write a platonic soulmate au! by organafinn on tumblr so this happened. Uhm so graphic depictions of violence, thoughts of suicide (although not explicitly stated) and all around sad time, it gets happy towards the end! and there are some happy parts! anyhow this is war and I try not to shy away from it's implications. Hit me up with some comments or, you can find me @ bodhirookandor on tumblr.

He’s four when it appears on his body. A vine, it wraps around his wrist, a single leaf curling in the middle of his palm. Bodhi can’t help but stare at it, trace the mark with short chubby fingers. It’s beautiful, he decides with all the certainty of a four-year-old, maybe even the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Green with hints of red and brown, it fills him with security and safety.

 

Bodhi never shows anyone his mark. He doesn’t know why, can’t articulate why he says no when his parents eagerly ask him if he’d gotten one. Can’t explain why he doesn’t say anything when their faces fall. It feels private somehow, something he should keep to himself. The long sleeve shirts he wears keep it hidden, and Bodhi never tells a soul. He just lets the overwhelming sense of peace and warmth that pulse in the mark fill his being.

 

He’s eight when the Empire invades his home. When their ships enter NiJedha and their oppression begins. The day begins like any other, bright and sunny with the bite of wind. Bodhi remembers feeling terror and grief and a rage so hot it burns his lips and sears his chest. He likes to believe it’s his passion. His parents say it’ll be the death of him.

 

They try to reason with him, his mama, his papa, his mother and father and aunts and uncles. They try to sit him down and tell him that it’d be best to stay safe, stay cautious. They tell him that it’s better to be alive the next day than to die with your beliefs. They try to tell him that, but Bodhi knows it’s all lies.

 

There’s too much Jedha in all of them for it to be true.

 

His mama and papa are the first to be taken, carted off by the Empire to who knows where. The rest of the adults keep him and his siblings close, their fear overwhelming their senses. They talk at night, when they think Bodhi and his siblings are asleep. They whisper their fears and their anger. They console and hug each other close. It’s too intimate, Bodhi thinks, the first time his sister manages to convince him to listen in. He feels like an outsider, even though they’re family. He presses his hand to his wrist and wonders if it’d be like that for him. He wonders if he’d ever actually meet them.

 

The mark pulses with warmth, reassuring him.

 

He’s ten when things change. Tension that had been building up, spills, and things take a turn for the worst. Fear and death plague his senses and Bodhi can’t help but fall into his rage. His parents and aunt and uncle try to keep him and his siblings away from it all but they can’t. Not when it’s in their face. Not when they’re confronted with death and destruction.

 

“War,” his sister Asha tells him, anger and desperation coating her voice like slime, “is a disease. It festers and corrupts, bringing nothing but death and decay. It consumes you, leaving nothing but an empty husk haunted by your own nightmares.”

 

War, Bodhi finds, is cold and cruel. It takes and it takes and it takes, leaving nothing but an empty carcass for critters to devour. It mutilates and destroys, caring little about who it obliterates. War, he finds, has taken too much from his family.

 

The mark on his wrist stops pulsing with warmth. Bodhi half wonders if it ever did.

 

He learns much in the seven years that follow. He learns to keep his mouth shut, learns to temper his rage, hide it behind steel cages and cement walls. He watches as his neighbors and family resist their occupation, constantly toeing the line between outright disobedience and annoyance. He learns that while the insurgents are working to oust the Empire, they care little for the people in NiJedha.

 

 “This is war,” Uncle Arun says, his voice hard in ways that send a chill up Bodhi’s spine, “and right now the goal is to get the Empire out. What’s a few cracked eggs to saving an entire carton? They see the big picture. It is up to us to save those of us in it.” That’s the last time Bodhi’s seen his uncle. The next day the man is taken aboard the Imperial ship that floats above their city and he’s never seen him since.

 

He still sometimes hears his aunt and mother and father crying in their room.

 

He learns something else, living in a war-torn city. He learns of pain and sorrow, of a hunger so deep it consumes his stomach. He learns what it means to live on days without fresh food, learns what it means to live on the precipice of starvation. He makes a decision based on this knowledge, makes it because there’s no other choice.

 

He enlists, even as his mother and father shout, even as his aunt cries and his sister spits on the floor in disgust. He enlists even as his chest twinges with self-revulsion. Bodhi enlists and can already feel the weight of his decision. The consequences of his choice slither into his skin, seep into his muscles and through his bones until they settle in his heart.

 

Bodhi caresses the mark on his wrist, wanting to feel something by touching it. He feels nothing. He wonders if it’s better this way.

 

The Empire is worse than he thought it’d be. Everything is bright white and the smell of antiseptic burns his nostrils. Nothing is out of place; everything follows a strict code where even the slightest deviation brings swift punishment. The first day they ask him if he has any mark, anything tying him to his future partners. Bodhi denies it. He keeps his face impassive even as they search every inch of his body. They grab his hand, twisting his wrist and demanding an explanation. He lies and says it’s a tattoo he got in order to feel less lonely.

 

They believe him.

 

Kindness, empathy, and compassion die in the face in the Empire. There is only a hallow twist of the mouth, smug satisfaction forced through dull eyes and bitterness wrapped up in a red face. It’s cold, not the sort of cold he’s used to, but the kind of cold that echoes nothingness. Sometimes, in his more vulnerable moments, behind closed doors and darkness, Bodhi allows himself to curl around his wrist, allows himself to close his eyes and pretend that the mark is still warm and soothing. In these moments, he imagines his bonded family are safe and sound, happy and loving towards one another. He pretends that they’re okay, that at least they found each other. In these moments, where no one but himself is privy to weakness, Bodhi lets himself collapse and shake with terror, lets himself mumble his fears into the leaf on his palm.

 

He prays sometimes too, the words tumbling out of his lips like a waterfall. Sometimes he prays for his family to live long lives, to forget about him and move on. Other times he prays for those bonded to him, hopes that they find each other and keep one another safe. Occasionally, he prays for himself, because he knows, _he knows_ , that one of these days will be his last.

 

The first time they punish him, it’s because he prevents the death of an innocent family. He’d been making a routine stop, dropping off supplies to an imperial outpost. He hears them before he sees them. The father’s loud shout has him looking over and seeing the blaster levied at a young child shakes him to his core. Bodhi doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he stands in front of the child, eyes blazing and hands up as though to shield them. His mind still hasn’t caught up with him, even as his mouth twists into a sneer and words escape him.

 

“You wouldn’t be shooting a child,” he says, his mother’s rage and his mama’s confidence flowing through him, “that wouldn’t look too good for the Empire, now would it?” Bodhi knows they won’t do it, knows that they prefer to take care of people like him behind closed doors. He’s glad for it, as the child hurries to their father and the family disappears behind the growing crowd.

 

He swears his wrist pulses with warmth as they take him to receive punishment.

 

It’s astounding that they don’t kill him the minute they cart him away. It’s astounding, but a part of Bodhi wishes they had. Instead of killing him, they decided to do something else. They introduce him to a monster. They introduce him to a monster capable of bending the Force, twisting something he believes in and showing him its ugliness. There’s a sort of poetry to it, he guesses, mind half delirious with pain, a sort of bitter irony. Of course, they’d take something so integral to him, something that’s been a fundamental part of him and morph it into something horrible, ugly and fear inducing.

 

His wrist becomes cold.

 

He stops wondering, stops praying, stops doing much of anything beyond his duties. He starts doing things to get along, make it seem as though he’s getting the picture. He doesn’t do anything to gain the ire of the Empire, and with it, the attention of the monster again. His memory of his family keep him going and he buries his head in the sand, pretends everything is as it is. And it works, for a while. He becomes friends with a couple of cargo pilots, joins them in laughter and hangs out with them whenever he can. He gets drunk with them, have them hype him up for anything and acts like everything is fine. He spends some time like this, pretending everything is all right during the day and falling apart quietly at night, when his only witness is the dark and the mark on his wrist. Everything is fine, he tells himself, even though his wrist gets colder and colder until it feels like a veritable ice cube.

 

Bodhi tells himself he’s fine with that too. That is until Galen Erso comes into his life and shows him how not fine he really is.

 

Bodhi would look back on those moments between them with a mixture of fondness and anger. He can never truly pin down how he feels towards the man. Their relationship becomes more than just that of friends, they become close, sharing secrets that Bodhi hadn’t shared with his pilot friends. The man becomes family to him; one he hadn’t been sure he’d ever be able to make. But with that comes a vulnerability that Bodhi hasn’t foreseen. Galen learns of his anger, his fear, his guilt and he twists it, pokes at it until Bodhi feels obligated to do anything to alleviate it.

 

Galen tells him about the Death Star, sealing both of their fates and a part of Bodhi hates him for it. Hates him because he knows, he _knows_ that he can’t let this go. He’s buried his head in the sand for too long, let himself fall into obscurity, let himself stay with these monsters with the lie that he was protecting his family. He let too much go and he couldn’t anymore.

 

His mama used to say that he had too much Jedha in him to ever really be complacent with the current system. Bodhi would always say that he learned it from her. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think about the way her eyes light up with tears and the smile that blooms on her face.

 

He sends out a prayer, the first one he’s done in a long time, praying his family would stay safe and understand his position. He prays they understand why he did the things he did. He leaves Eadu, a device in his pocket and a prayer on his lips.

 

His wrist pulses once, still cold, but warmer than it’s been in months and Bodhi almost sobs with relief.

 

Saw Gerrera is nothing like he thought he’d be. He’d grown up with stories about this man, about his strength and strategic mind. He’d grown up hearing tales about his triumphs and his fierceness. He’s a legend and Bodhi has always sort of wanted to meet him. This isn’t how he wanted to meet him though, restrained and on his knees while the man rasped and stared at him with equal parts intrigue and disgust.

 

His wrist pulses once, twice, three times, before stopping, growing cold once again. Bodhi doesn’t know what it means, is too scared to ponder it further.

 

‘Don’t leave,’ he thinks, staring at the impassive face of a man who’s already decided on his fate. ‘Don’t leave me, not yet. Give me more time.’

 

“I defected,” he says, trying to inject as much confidence as he possibly can to his voice, “I defected. Galen Erso told me to give that you.” He gestures to the device in the man’s hand and hopes against hope that the man believes him. He hopes and prays but he knows the truth.

 

There’s no believing him.

 

“Bor Gullet,” the man rasps, whispers really, yet it sounds like a sonic boom to his ears. The insurgents grab him by the arms and haul him up and away from Gerrera. Their steps are purposeful and their grip on his arms is painful. Bodhi knows where they’re taking him and he feels icy terror and wind-like desperation rise to a crescendo within him.

 

“I defected!” He shouts, his voice teetering on the edge of hysteria. “I defected! Please! Please! I was sent to you! I defected!” No one responds, his wrist is cold and Bodhi can’t help the small sob that escapes his mouth.

 

He can’t tell you how long he’d been in that room. He’d say hours, minutes, seconds, a millennium. Time blurs in that place, distorted and destroyed behind purple tentacles and _painpainpain_. Something breaks within him, falls to the floor and shatters into a million pieces. Bodhi would never get it back.

 

Tentacles wrap around his head and Bodhi screams, cries, begs, and pleads even though he knows no one will answer him. Memories crack and fall into an empty abyss and Bodhi sobs hard because he knows things are going missing.

 

***

 

_He’s four, softly whispering to the mark on his wrist, his words slurring as he tries to stay up. He doesn’t want to fall asleep, not when he could spend more time basking in the warmth of his mark. His mark, a sign that someone out there in the universe would get to know him._

_Bodhi hopes they’d be his friend._

He babbles, a string of syllables that make little sense. He just wants it all to stop. Why couldn’t anyone ever understand that?

 

***

 

_He’s five and he presses a soft kiss on his wrist. It had hurt all day and Bodhi found himself bursting into tears at the end of the night. He couldn’t figure out why but a part of him assumes his partner is hurt in some fashion. He presses another kiss on the leaf in his palm, hoping to inject as much love and care as he could. He doesn’t know how it works, but he hopes they’d feel better knowing he’s there with them._

_He falls asleep, a Jedha lullaby on his lips, attempting to soothe his soul-family to sleep. A part of him thinks it works_.

 

***

 

Bodhi drifts, lost in the cracks of his mind as tentacles remove themselves from his head. He registers nothing, not the guards that come to take him away, not the sorrowful yet resigned, “so you were telling the truth.” Nothing. He drifts, wanting to be away from anything and everyone. He’s done enough, right? Maybe now he’d get to rest.

 

His wrist becomes warm, almost to an uncomfortable degree. Bodhi doesn’t notice.

 

***

 

_“Hey Bodhi,” Asha whispers, her voice soft in the night. Bodhi rises and turns to stare at his sister._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Do you think we’ll die here?” He doesn’t say anything, almost unconsciously tracing his mark. He turns to stare at his sister, taking in the terror etched onto her face. He pats his bed, waiting for her to slither in and hug him close._

_“No, I don’t think we’ll die here. Mama, papa, auntie, uncle, mother and father wouldn’t allow it. I won’t allow it. Okay?” His sister hugs him closer and Bodhi sighs, hugging her back. He hums an old Jedha lullaby. It speaks of hope, of protectiveness and safety. Bodhi keeps going until his sister falls asleep, her breathing easy and slow. He turns onto his back and stares at his ceiling._

_‘Please,’ he prays, hoping the Force hears him, ‘please keep them safe.’_

***

 

“Are you him?” A voice asks. The mark _burns_ but Bodhi doesn’t notice, too far gone. His mind is shredded, torn to pieces by a monster and all Bodhi wants to do is fall into the holes in his mind. He just wants to sleep, to drift and never have to _be_ again. Is that too much to ask?

 

Something inside him screams but Bodhi ignores it.

 

“Are you the pilot?” The voice asks again, soft but with an undercurrent of urgency. Bodhi half registers it, vaguely recalls something about piloting but it’s gone again, floating away from him like dust in the wind.

 

Nothing matters anymore, he didn’t matter. It’s okay this way. He’s fine. More pieces of him fall into the empty holes and Bodhi halfheartedly tries to fix them. He’s fine, okay even. So why bother fixing anything?

 

Something shifts within him, louder and harder to ignore. The mark on his wrist burns, but Bodhi’s learned to disregard it almost entirely.

 

“Hey, listen to me. Does the name Galen Erso mean anything to you?” The voice asks again, desperation coating their voice. Something clicks within him, but it’s not enough. Too much of him is gone, too much of him has floated. But the words stir something within him. Pieces start mending and Bodhi finds himself closing the holes within his mind. It’s a start, but it’s not enough.

 

“Bodhi,” the voice says again, grave yet desperate, soft yet hard, “your name is Bodhi Rook. You have a sister named Asha Rook. Does that name mean anything to you? Asha Rook?” Bodhi gasps and things slide into place. Everything burns, his head, his wrist, his eyes. But he understands and a part of him wants to cry because he doesn’t know if he wanted this.

 

“I’m the pilot,” he rasps, his voice crunching in his ears like gravel, “I’m the pilot. I-I brought the message.” He looks up, his eyes clouded with tears that he refuses to let fall. “I’m the pilot.”

 

“You’re the pilot, Bodhi Rook.” the voice-person-says, their voice soft like a whisper. The surety of their statement takes him aback and Bodhi can’t help but look up. Bodhi blinks, attempting to clear his gaze and see who it is that brought him out of his drifting.

 

‘Who are you,’ he thinks, staring up at him, ‘why do you care?’

 

His wrist pulses three times with warmth, but Bodhi hasn’t registered it. He looks at the man in front of him, noting his wide-eyed stare and the way his hand almost unconsciously goes to his chest. The man’s eyes are brown (too brown, too warm, too soft, a voice in his head whispers) and Bodhi can’t help but be captivated by them.

 

“I’m Cassian, Cassian Andor. And you’re Bodhi Rook,” Bodhi nods once, the lump in his throat too large for him to answer the man. Pieces of him, he’d thought long gone slide into place within him and it’s all that he can do not to burst into sobs.

 

“Do you know where Galen Erso is?” Brown Eyes asks, his voice is hard but his eyes remain soft. Bodhi swallows once and nods. His hand touches the mark on his wrist and he closes his eyes, missing the way the man’s eyes flickered to his wrist and back to his face.

 

“He’s on Eadu. At least, that’s where I saw him last.”

 

Brown Eyes goes to say something more, but the world around them shakes. Bodhi twists around, his eyes flitting from place to place in an attempt to figure out what’s happening. He rises unsteadily to his feet, watching as the insurgents that guarded them, ran away.

 

Half of him wonders if he’d be okay with dying like this, the other half, fueled primarily by ice like fear and breath-taking desperation wants to live.

 

“Move imperial pilot,” a voice shouts. Bodhi looks up and registers the gun pointed in his direction.

 

“No!” He screams, curling in on himself. A hand grabs his wrist and pulls him out of the cell. The same man with the gun looks him over, grunts and runs out the building, yelling for him to follow. Bodhi stands there for a second, confused and bewildered all at once.

 

His wrist burns but he doesn’t notice.

 

A hand appears in his line of vision. Bodhi looks up and notices another man standing in front of him. A smile, strained though it may be, is on his lips and his face is soft as he wiggles his hand.

 

“You wouldn’t leave a blind man like me in this sort of place, would you?” The man asks. Bodhi grabs his hand and runs in the direction he saw the other man run in. They make it out and Bodhi immediately stops. He doesn’t let go of the other man’s hand.

 

***

 

_“NiJedha is so beautiful,” his mama says. The two of them are sitting on the roof of their home watching dawn break across the sky. Bodhi grins up at her, his missing teeth prominent._

_“Mother says that it’s because this place is satu-satra…She says it’s because there’s a lot of the Force here.” Bodhi says, his face staring ahead of him._

_“She’s right,” mama whispers, her eyes glittering in the soft glow of the rising sun. “NiJedha is saturated with the Force. The Force is an unending thing. It takes on different forms in different places. In NiJedha, the very air we breathe is coated with the Force. The Kyber crystals are manifestations of it.” His mama looks away from the horizon and turns to him, her voice becoming serious. “Too many people want to take this place for themselves, want to ruin it. It is our responsibility as Jedhans to protect it.”_

 

***

 

Bodhi stares at the horrific sight in front of him. Sand, rock, and fire rise from the ground, hurling towards their position. Wind whips around them and the very air moans in pain. Bodhi stays rooted to the spot, watching his home be destroyed in front of him.

 

“What’s happening?” The man next to him says, his voice hard and the grip on his hand tightening.

 

“It’s gone,” is all that Bodhi can whisper. It’s all that he can manage between the rising nausea and grief that fill his lungs.

 

“It’s gone,” he repeats. Cracks appear along the ground while lava bursts from it. The man whose hand he’s holding pulls and Bodhi finds himself being led to the ship in front of him. They throw themselves onto the belly of the ship and Bodhi scrambles to the window, his eyes desperate to see what remains of his home.

 

***

 

_“This is your chance to do something right,” Galen whispers. Bodhi fiddles with the cuffs of his suit and grits his teeth._

_“Why me?” He asks, although he knows Galen won’t answer that._

_“We made this a reality, you and I. And now it is up to us to put a stop to it. We can make things right.” Bodhi closes his eyes for a second and then opens them. His gaze is unrelenting, fierce and angry. He’s put into a corner and both of them know what his answer will be. He grabs the device and stands._

_“I’d hurry if I were you Bodhi. Time is of the essence.” They don’t embrace, Bodhi doesn’t think he’d have the strength to hold back punching the man. They merely stare at each other, their choices made and the consequences unseen._

***

 

‘I’m too late,’ Bodhi thinks, staring at the destruction of his home. NiJedha is engulfed in a sea of red, rocks melt and tumble around them. He doesn’t speak, no one in the ship speaks as they’re thrust into hyperspace.

 

The mark on his wrist glows softly, but Bodhi is too far gone in his grief to notice it. He’s too far gone to notice the collective intake of breath by the other occupants as theirs glow as well.

 

NiJedha is gone and a part of Bodhi is gone too.

 

It’s twenty minutes into their flight when one of them decides to speak. Bodhi absently fiddles with his goggles, not noticing the person that sits next to him.

 

“You’re from Jedha, aren’t you?” The man asks, his voice quiet. A familiar hand takes his; Bodhi swallows the bile in his throat and pushes the tears in his eyes back.

 

“Yes,” he rasps, his voice pained and hallow all at once, “I brought the message so something like this wouldn’t happen. I was too late.” The grip on his hand tightens minutely and Bodhi closes his eyes.

 

His wrist is warm, soothing and soft, it reminds him of home and Bodhi can’t help but sag against the man’s shoulder. He doesn’t cry though, refuses to give voice to the feeling in his chest.

 

“You’re not too late.” Someone else hisses. Their voice is as strong as kyber and Bodhi opens his eyes to stare into determined brown.

 

‘I won’t allow you to fall into despair,’ the brown irises seem to say and Bodhi takes a shuddered breath. They remind him too much of home, of security and strength. They remind him of something that he’d lost, something stripped from him and fed to the wild dogs. They’re infused with the kind of emotion he used to see when he looked in the mirror.

 

Bodhi wonders how long it’s been since he’d seen a look like that staring back at him.

 

“You’re not too late,” they repeat, their voice imbued with the sort of confidence that reminds him of his mama.

 

“Seems pretty late to me,” both he and another man state. They look at one another before turning away.

 

“No,” the person from before says. Rising to their feet, they explain Galen’s plan and Bodhi feels something in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. It feels like hope and tastes like freedom. Bodhi tries to swallow through the lump in his throat.

 

They set a course for Eadu, cautious and hopeful all at once. Bodhi absentmindedly gives directions, too preoccupied to really pay much attention. He lets go of the hand he’s holding, choosing instead to fiddle with the goggles that rest on his head.

 

“I’m Chirrut,” the man says, a small, albeit bittersweet, smile on his face. Bodhi finds himself smiling back, although it weak, simply a pull of the lips. He doesn’t move away though, letting the man’s heat press against his side.

 

“Bodhi,” he replies. The man repeats his name and his smile grows, becoming a grin and Bodhi doesn’t know what to do, what to say, or how to react. He can feel his own lips spreading into a smile, slightly more honest than before. It feels as though fire lit up his veins, warming him from the inside and reminding him of all he was and all he could be. A piece of him mends, wrapped up in a cocoon of fire and brimstone. It breathes safety, croons a song of passion, of culture and of fierceness. It reminds him of laughter and a bright sunny day. His smile grows even wider, eyes slightly glittering.

 

The mark on his wrist pulses with warmth and glows a soft red.

 

They land on the Eadu and Bodhi finds himself alone with Brown Eyes as he shows him the path up the mountain. He spends the entire time trying not trip over his feet, and admittedly trying not to gape at the man next to him. It’s interesting, with the short time he’d been around the man, how calm and soothing he felt around him. His wrist warms and Bodhi clutches it, not noticing the man’s intrigued stare.

 

“How long were you with Gerrera?” Brown Eyes asks, and Bodhi takes a second too long to answer. His mind flashes back to darkness and purple tentacles of the stench of vomit and human excrement. His mind takes him back to _painpainpain_ and a tremor works its way through his spine. He tries to play it off, but the soft hand on his back and the furrowed concern on Brown Eye’s face tells him he’s failed.

 

“A while,” Bodhi says, too many emotions coloring his tone for it to be innocuous.

 

‘Too long,’ he thinks. A piece of his mind, tattered beyond compare shifts and Bodhi feels a stab of pain. Brown Eyes (Cassian, his mind hisses) nods once, before he smiles. It’s beautiful, causing his eyes to glimmer in the nighttime glow and Bodhi can’t help but smile back.

 

“Must’ve been a helluva time,” Cassian breathes and Bodhi nods once. They stand like that for a while, both too close and not close enough. Neither of them move, too caught up in whatever it is between them to really think about anything else. Bodhi blinks and the moment is broken, both of them understanding that there is a mission at hand. He turns and leads him to a good vantage point and stands there as Cassian attempts to get him to leave him alone at the top of the mountain.

 

“I’m here, looking. I’m fine by myself.” Cassian snarls, voice rough and jagged, fragile and dangerous like broken glass. Bodhi stares ahead of him, makes out Galen’s figure and swallows once. He crouches down to Cassian’s level, ignores the rain steadily cascading down his face and goes to place a hand on his shoulder. He stops before he could and lets his hand drop between them. Cassian’s face is a complication of emotions that Bodhi can’t hope to decipher, although a large part of him wants to, wants to have the privilege to learn more about the man in front of him.

 

Bodhi squashes down his wants, his desires, his hopes and forges on, like he always does. Like he’ll always have to.

 

“This is war,” he begins, eyes searching Cassian’s, “I know that you have to do things you don’t want to do. I get it.” Bodhi offers up a weak smile, brittle around the edges. “I get it. I’m just wondering if you think this is right thing.” He turns and walks away, half stumbling down the mountain. He doesn’t say anything else when he makes his way down and notices that only the droid is left in the ship. He doesn’t say anything but a part of him can’t deny feeling isolated.

 

His mark burns slightly, but Bodhi is really good at ignoring it.

 

***

 

_“Don’t do this,” his sister whispers. Bodhi ignores her and continues to pack. There’s nothing for him to say, nothing that could make this right. He tries to reassure himself that it’s all for them. That it didn’t matter what happened to him so long as his family is okay._

_The justification does nothing but make him feel worse. Bodhi ignores the tight feeling in his chest and keeps going._

_“Please,” Asha whispers, her voice breaks and Bodhi has to stop himself from turning around and wrapping her in a hug, has to stop himself from pressing her close to him and telling her that it’s all a joke, that he would never leave her, that everything is okay. He doesn’t though, he just zips up his duffle bag and stands in front of her._

_“Just,” he pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat, “just know that everything I did, I did for the family.” He knows it’s selfish, knows that she has every right to hate him, but he still asks it of her anyway, still hopes that she could find it within herself to forgive him._

_Asha looks up at him, shakes her head and walks away. Each step pierces his chest, the pain taking his breath away. Bodhi touches his wrist, his finger tracing the design that wraps around it and curls inside his palm. He tells himself he’s okay with this, tells himself that it’s better this way; empty platitudes meant to keep him going._

_They taste like sand in his mouth._

 

***

They come back as fire and explosions lit up the night sky. It takes a couple of seconds for them to get out. Bodhi, with the help of the droid (call me K2 he says), maneuvers them towards the relative safety of hyperspace and only then does he let himself relax. Only then does the tension surrounding the others pop.

 

Galen’s daughter (and isn’t that a revelation. Bodhi’s not entirely sure if she had introduced herself before, isn’t entirely sure he hadn’t blocked it out. He wouldn’t be too surprised if he did.) spits acid and attempts to shame Cassian’s choices. Bodhi doesn’t know how to feel, can’t even begin to unravel the tight bundle of emotions within him. Rage, despair and bitter satisfaction course through him and Bodhi can’t make heads or tails of it. It leaves him breathless, more than a little of balance. He doesn’t know how to feel, can’t express it beyond closed teeth and a clenched jaw.

 

He says nothing as Galen’s daughter (Cassian calls her Jyn, Bodhi assumes that’s her name) criticizes Cassian’s choices. He says nothing as she spits with disgust on the floor, does nothing but fiddle with his goggles as she continues.

 

“You might as well be a Stormtrooper,” Jyn hisses and Bodhi jerks back in surprise. No one speaks for a moment and Bodhi shakes his head. Everything is too warm on the ship, the very air around them takes on a heavy quality as he and the others watch the two face each other head on.

 

The mark on his wrist is warm, burning, searing and Bodhi clenches his teeth and holds it close to his body. He’s glad no one notices.

 

***

 

_“You’re joining them,” it’s a statement, not a question. Bodhi glances at his father before turning to look at the sky. He breathes in deep, trying to get as much of his home as he possibly can within him._

_“Yes,” he murmurs. He looks at him in the corner of his eyes, notices his hunched figure and clenched fists. Neither of them speak, the two of them staring as the moon slowly falls below the horizon._

_“Don’t come back,” his father whispers. Bodhi closes his eyes in defeat as the man continues, “don’t come back. Don’t think about us, don’t look for us. Just…don’t come back.” His voice breaks on the last word and Bodhi can’t help the tears that spill over his eyes, and cascade down his face._

_‘I’m doing this for you,’ he thinks, bitter and resigned all at once, ‘I don’t want to, but it’s better for me to do this than for you to die.’_

_“Alright,” he says, voice monotone. The word comes out clipped, cut off and rough at the edges. His father goes to clasp his shoulder but stops before he could. His hand hovers between the two of them and Bodhi wants to cross the bridge between them, wants to collapse into his father’s arms and cry. He doesn’t though, because he knows he wouldn’t be able to continue, knows that if he were to fall into his father’s arms, there would be no going back. He can’t do it, can’t afford to be weak, not now._

_Not ever again._

_He touches the mark on his wrist and prays it gives him strength._

 

***

They land on the rebel base and Bodhi watches as everyone goes their separate ways. Cassian and K2 disappear behind a locked door with instructions to stay close by in case they’re needed. Chirrut and the man whose name he learns is Baze, head off in another direction. Jyn just disappears and Bodhi doesn’t have the strength to move away from his ship, has no strength to do anything besides slide down in front of it. Unbidden, his hand slowly goes to the mark on his wrist. He traces the design, long fingers curving around each dip and following each twist.

 

It pulses, a warm feeling rushing through him like the wind. It pulses red for a minute, bright and lovely on his wrist and Bodhi can’t help but stare at it in fascination. It’s beautiful and he can’t get enough. He doesn’t notice the person sitting next to them, doesn’t notice the way their eyes go to his wrist and the way they touch the back of their neck. He comes back to himself when he hears a cough to his right.

 

Jyn offers him a limp smirk before turning and staring ahead of her. Bodhi doesn’t stop looking at her, takes in the way the sun bounces off her dark skin, illuminating it under the harsh glow, the way her mouth is set into a thin line, and her eyes flit from person to person.

 

“How well did you know my father?” She asks, breaking the silence between the two. She’s good at playing nonchalant, but Bodhi can see how vulnerable she really is. The way her shoulders rise momentarily until falling back down at her sides and the way she refuses to look at him give her away. He’s been silent for too long because she turns to look at him.

 

Bodhi’s unprepared for the raw honesty that shine underneath the cracks of her hard exterior. He’s unprepared for the emotions that bleed through: the pain, the hope, the bitterness, the love, that scream underneath her nonchalant tone. It’s too much and too little all at once and Bodhi can’t help but want to tuck her into his side and protect her from what may come. He won’t though, not only because it’s irrational (he’s only known her for a couple of hours) but also because he’s sure she wouldn’t appreciate it.

 

“I knew him well enough. We were close. Your father was a good man.” He doesn’t know if the last part is a lie. Galen Erso may have given them the key to defeat the death star but he did a lot of bad things too. One good deed, no matter how monumental, did not wash away a decade’s worth of bad.

 

Bodhi isn’t sure if that last part is directed at Galen or at himself.

 

Jyn nods, as though she’s expected that answer. She turns away and stares back out the hangar. Neither of them speak for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Jyn’s the one to break it again.

 

“I didn’t mean it, you know,” she begins, her voice soft and eyebrows furrowed. She glances up at him before looking back down at the ground. “I didn’t mean to call him a Stormtrooper.” She fiddles with the cuffs of her sweater and Bodhi’s reminded of Asha. He swallows down the painful memories that arise and slowly grabs her hand. He squeezes once and relaxes at the answering squeeze.

 

“I know, but you have to tell him that.”

 

The smile he gives her is small, simply a pull of the lips but it’s warm. It grows at the tentative smile that Jyn throws back. His mark pulses with warmth, it rushes through him like a tornado and Bodhi locks eyes with Jyn. She’s staring up at him, awed and terrified all at once and Bodhi doesn’t think about it as he pulls her into a hug.

 

‘It’s all right,’ he thinks, pressing as much of his confidence and protectiveness as he possibly could into their embrace, ‘I’ve got you.’

 

Jyn hugs back just as fiercely.

 

***

 

_Bodhi stares up at the silent sky above him, taking in the glittering constellations and bright planets. His hand traces the mark on his wrist, curling around the leaf on his palm. He breathes a poem, letting it flow through the air around him, and collapse into the ground beside him._

_“Drowning moon and sweltering sun, bring me to tears so I may be done. Choices made, lives cost, hope disappears until all is lost. I work and I work and I work for no gain, nothing here but all of our pain.” Tears cascade down his face and Bodhi presses his hand into his face, wanting to feel something from the mark on his wrist and leaf in his palm._

_He feels nothing and a part of him collapses._

 

***

The rebel counsel chooses not to fight, their fear fueling their decision. Bodhi can’t say he doesn’t relate, can’t say that a part of him doesn’t agree with them. He’s exhaustion wrapped up in an anxious body. There’s no part of him that doesn’t want to stick his head in the sand and pretend like nothing’s happening. But he can’t do that. Not anymore. Not when his home has just been destroyed, obliterated in front of his eyes with a push of a button.

 

His mama used to say that he had too much Jedha in him to ever truly be okay with rolling over and dying. He makes his choice and Bodhi likes to believe that the people of NiJedha would agree with him.

 

Jyn grabs his hand and squeezes once. Bodhi’s glad he doesn’t have to do this alone.

 

They head outside, making their way towards Chirrut and Baze. They tell them the council decision and Bodhi can’t help the smile that graces his features the minute the two decide to join them as well. His smile grows when he sees Cassian standing in front of them, a dozen soldiers and spies behind him.

 

“I couldn’t face myself if I gave up now,” he declares. He looks at Jyn, Chirrut, Baze, until finally his gaze rests on Bodhi’s and Bodhi can’t help the soft sigh that escapes his mouth.

 

They depart in a couple of hours and they all head their separate ways to prepare. Bodhi finds himself alone on the ship, stealthily getting it ready for departure. He whispers reassurances to himself as he gets ready, tells himself that everything would go according to plan. His hands shake and Bodhi gives himself five seconds to quietly fall apart. The second’s tick by achingly slow and Bodhi lets himself be swept away by wave after wave of fear and rage. He sinks to the bottom of his emotions, ceases to be in those five seconds until there’s nothing left of him but his emotions and his memories.

 

***

 

_His sister disappears the day he’s set to depart. Bodhi stares at the letter on the foot of his bed and crumples it up. Pressing his face into his hands, Bodhi doesn’t react to his mother’s shout or his father’s wail. He keeps his face in his hands and sobs._

 

***

 

He breathes softly through his nose and wrangles his emotions, tucks them behind steel walls and dense cement. His hands slow to a halt until there’s no evidence of them ever shaking. He breathes deeply, once, twice, three times, until it doesn't feel like each inhale rips through his chest. He closes his eyes, wipes them, attempting to get rid of any and all evidence of him sobbing.

 

A hand touches his shoulder and Bodhi jumps. He whips around and comes face to face with Baze and he swallows. Shame and embarrassment curdle in his stomach and Bodhi drops his gaze. He doesn’t know this man, is pretty sure the man dislikes him. Baze looks at him for a long moment before sitting on the other piloting seat. Neither of them speak for a second, and Bodhi, oddly, finds it peaceful. There’s a sort of grounding element to it, an anchor that keeps him tethered to this very moment. A part of him feels like it should be floating away, rising up to the sky and never touching the ground but the man’s presence keeps him on the ground. It fills him with safety and Bodhi can’t help but sink into his chair. The hand on his shoulder doesn’t let go.

 

The brown sections of his mark glow and Bodhi looks down at it, before slowly raising his gaze to lock eyes with Baze. The man merely shows him the mark on his left ankle. It’s identical to his and Bodhi can’t help the way his breathing hitches.

 

“Chirrut tells me you’re from Jedha,” Baze says, his voice as soft as the ground after a rainstorm. It’s rich and warm, soft like a blanket. He feels like home and Bodhi almost chokes on the sob that tries to burst from his mouth. He clenches his teeth and holds it in.

 

“Yes,” he clears his throat, “yes, I’m from NiJedha.” Baze nods and smiles just a little. The mark on his wrist glows even brighter and Bodhi smiles back. It’s tentative, more than a little shy, but there’s no denying the honesty that bursts through it, there’s no denying the way it reaches his eyes.

 

“It’s okay, you know,” Baze begins, searching his eyes, “to want to rest. To want to give yourself a moment to grieve.” Bodhi stares at him, looks into impossibly deep brown eyes and clenches his teeth.

 

“How, how do you know I-” He cuts himself off and stares back at Baze.

 

“You live as long as I have, fight as long as I have, you start to notice the same thing. All warriors have eyes like you do. All of them have eyes like Jyn, Chirrut, Cassian and me. We’re all the same,” Baze’s smile is quick and sharp, a cut across his face, “it’s a good thing we’re together then isn’t it?” Bodhi laughs and laughs until finally collapsing into sobs. Baze envelops him in a hug and Bodhi presses close.

 

‘It’s okay,’ the hug seems to say, warm and inviting, ‘you’re okay here.’

 

Bodhi feels a part of him settle to the ground and he weeps with relief.

 

***

 

The others arrive and the mission takes hold. Bodhi clenches his teeth and bluffs their way into Scarif. He smirks with satisfaction as he lands the ship onto the beach. Turning to the others, Bodhi’s gaze flits from person to person, knowing that not all of them will make it.

 

His gaze lands on Chirrut and the man smiles widely at him, his sightless eyes locking onto his own with pinpoint accuracy. He presses his hand to his chest and nods, a promise for the both of them. He turns away towards Baze and Bodhi lets his eyes wander towards Cassian. The man stares back at him, a myriad of emotions flitting between their two gazes. They stare for a long while until Cassian finally nods and looks away. A hand touches his and Bodhi looks down to see Jyn.

 

“Don’t die,” she whispers and Bodhi squeezes her hand.

 

“Only if you don’t,” he whispers back. She smiles once, squeezes his hand so hard he wonders if the bones will crack and walks towards Cassian. A hand touches his shoulder and Bodhi looks up to see Baze.

 

“If you die,” the man begins, his voice quiet but rimmed with steel, “I _will_ resurrect you and kill you myself.” Bodhi chuckles and nods.

 

***

 

They go forward with the mission, each of them fulfilling their duties. Bodhi works on his end, relays false information to the Empire, keeping their forces as far away from the beach as he possibly can. Men around him die, but he keeps going, doesn’t stop as the number of people around the ship thin. He can’t stop now. He’s failed once, Bodhi refuses to fail again.  
  


 “Bodhi!” Cassian’s voice, tinny and static cuts through his focus.

 

“Yeah?” He intercepts an SOS signal and scrambles it so much he doubts the Empire would be able to decode it.

 

“Bodhi! The rebel fleet is up there. You’ve got to tell them to blow a hole in the shield gate so we can transmit the plans-” Bodhi cuts him off incredulous and furious all at once.

 

“I _can’t_ , we’re not tied-”

 

“Find a way.” Cassian tells him, short and clipped, before cutting their connection. Bodhi breathes deeply for a second, wrangling his control over his haywire emotions and thinking.

 

“What do we do?” One of the soldiers (Tonc, his mind whispers helpfully), asks. Bodhi breathes deeply again and rises from his crouched position.

 

“We have to go out there,” the mark on his wrist is hot, burning against his skin, a warning. “The rebel fleet is pulling in. We have to get a signal strong enough to get through to them and let them know we’re trapped. I can patch us in over here on the landing pad, but you need to get on the radio and tell one of the guys out there to find a master switch.” He goes out, the other soldiers covering him and is immediately reminded that he is not a soldier.

 

***

 

_“You’re a warrior,” Baze tells him, his voice strong and sure, “like Jyn, Chirrut, Cassian and me.”_

 

***

_“You’re a Jedhan, that’s worth ten soldiers,” his mama whispers, her courage lighting up his insides._

 

***

 

Bodhi counts to ten and run, blocking out all of the sounds of death around him. Blood and sand rain from the sky, coating him. Screams light up and down the beach, but Bodhi doesn’t pay much attention to it. He keeps going, grits his teeth and sets to work. One by one the soldiers around him fall and Bodhi swallows down the bile that rises in his throat.

 

‘You can do this Rook,’ he thinks, his hands shaking even as he sets up the connection, ‘they’re counting on you.’

 

Bodhi runs towards the ship, his steps increasingly frantic as the soldiers covering him fall to the ground. It isn’t long until Tonc is the only one running with him, struggling to keep up with him. He’d been shot in the leg, the pain slowing his gait.

 

‘We can make it,’ Bodhi thinks, ‘we can do this Tonc, just stay with me.’ He grabs his hand and sprints towards the terminal, the backpack and Tonc’s dead weight slowing him down. Still, he doesn’t stop running, doesn’t stop moving out of the way of blaster fire and pushing himself and Tonc into cover.

 

A blaster bolt crackles over his head, close enough that it grazes his head and burns pieces of his hair. Bodhi grits his teeth and crouches down low.

 

“Bodhi?” Cassian’s voice crackled over the comlink, hoarse and thick with emotion. Bodhi almost asks him what’s wrong, if he and Jyn are alright but he doesn’t. Not now, not when he could pretend for a little while longer that everything’s okay.

 

Blaster fire rained down around him, and Bodhi gasps in pain as it hits his leg.

 

“Bodhi? Bodhi! Are you there?” Cassian’s voice is frantic, a drastic change to what Bodhi’s been used to so far. He breathes through his nose, trying to swallow down the bile that rises in his throat. Beside him, Tonc groans in pain.

 

“Bodhi? Bodh-” Blaster fire hits the comlink, severing the connection. Bodhi hisses in pain and holds his hand close. He crawls towards the terminal, fumbles at the spool and plugs the cable in. A breathless laugh escapes him as the terminal registers the connection. He ignores the lack of connection, crawling towards Tonc’s prone form (he refuses to believe the man’s dead) and grabs the man's comlink.

 

“Listen! If anyone’s listening this is Rogue One. I need an open line. I _need_ that master switch.” He listens to the affirmative and waits for 3 agonizing minutes until the connection is made. Hunching over the unit and adjusting his frequencies, Bodhi sends out a prayer, hoping against all hope that there would be someone out there that would listen. Someone who would believe him.

 

The mark on his wrist pulses with warmth, once, twice, three times. It glows a soft green, then a bright red, until finally a warm brown.

 

“This is Rogue One! I repeat, this is Rogue One, calling any Alliance ships that can hear me!”

 

He hears nothing but static. Beside him Tonc groans in pain and in fear, his breath shudders once before he goes still again. Bodhi hopes he stays alive.

 

“Please,” his voice cracks, fear and horror overwhelming his senses. Blaster fire and the steady thump of an advancing army behind him fray his already threadbare nerves. Bodhi doesn’t care for the way his hands tremble, doesn’t care for the way the mark on his wrist burns against his skin. He prays, sends out a plea to the Force, for someone to hear him.

 

He thinks of Jyn, of her confident eyes and vulnerable smile. Her tight hug comes to mind and Bodhi can practically feel it pressed against him. He thinks of Cassian, of his calm voice and hopeful eyes. His voice reaches his ears, encouraging him to try again, and Bodhi breathes deeply.

 

Another try, another attempt at establishing connection fails and Bodhi swallows his disappoint and fear.

 

His mind flashes to Chirrut, to his mischievous smile and silent promise. The way his hands held onto his own, familiar and warm. He thinks about Baze, his calm and soothing presence and grounding force. He thinks about soft earth and an even softer hug.

 

“This is Rogue One!” His voice is as strong as kyber. “Come in! Over!”

 

“This Admiral Raddus aboard the Profundity! Rogue One, we hear you!” Bodhi laughs once, loud and unrestrained, hysteria coating his tone.

 

“We have the plans! They found the Death Star plans. They have to transmit them from the communications tower. You have to get in position, get ready to receive. And you have to take down the shield gate. It’s the only way to get through!” He waits for a long time, too long, his only company the murmuring on the other end and Tonc’s pained moans.

 

“Copy you, Rogue One,” a voice finally replies, bringing hope and hysterical relief, “we’ll get it done.” The signal goes dead but Bodhi doesn’t care. He has already said what he needed to say. He grabs Tonc and makes his way towards the ship, keeping low and staying out of sight. Bodhi and Tonc enter the ship, the sound of blaster fire their only congratulations. His smile is bright and large and Bodhi can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes him, can’t help the emotions that curl in his gut, spreading through his body like butterflies. He’d done it. Now all he had to do is start the ship and get the rest of them. His mark glows brightly, color swirling around his wrist and up his palm.

 

He’s so hopeful and it aches.

 

It happens in slow motion; a bomb clatters into the ship and Bodhi doesn’t think. He keeps a hold of Tonc and throws himself out of the ship and into the sandy beach. It explodes behind him and he screams in pain as fire and shrapnel hit his arm and leg and scatters along his back. He passes out.

 

***

 

_“Come on Bodhi!” Asha laughs, her eyes glittering in the pale moonlight. Bodhi groans into his pillow and rises._

_“I’m up,” he yawns, smiling softly as his sister claps her hands. He smirks at his sister’s impatient huff as he puts on his slippers and hands her a jacket. She grins up at him and grabs his hand, leading him towards the roof of their home. Bodhi grabs a blanket and lays it out on the floor. His sister flops down and stares up at the sky._

_“I love this,” his sister breathes, excited. Bodhi glances at her, before turning back towards the stars._

_“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”_

_“Tell me about them,” Asha whispers, her eyes tracing each constellation. Bodhi grins and begins his tale._

 

***

He crawls forward and presses his ear against Tonc’s chest. A silent sob escapes him when he doesn’t hear a heartbeat, doesn’t feel any breathing. He moves off of the man, going forward even as his head swims with pain and certain parts of him won’t move anymore. Bodhi keeps going.

 

His mark burns, but Bodhi can’t tell.

 

‘I made a promise,’ he thinks to himself, ‘they trust me to do this. I can’t...I won’t let them down.’ He can’t move any further and collapses onto the sandy beach, his only companions the dead soldiers around him.

 

‘I’m sorry,’ he thinks, floaty and delirious with pain, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t enough.’ He passes out, his mark growing cold like the bodies around him.

 

***

 

_He doesn’t think about what comes after very often, doesn’t think about his future. Why would he when has to be in the now, when every move he makes is for the betterment of his family. He can’t think forward, not until the now is stable. Bodhi takes one step forward, doesn’t concern himself with what’s 20 yards ahead._

_He dreams, but they're foolish hopes, wishes of a boy that knows that there’s nothing more for him._

_Bodhi presses a kiss to the mark on his wrist and sighs. A part of him wonders what they’re like, his soul-family; wonders if they have a better life, if they’ve been untouched by war. He wonders if they’re happy, finally found each other and uncaring about him. He wonders what he’d do if ever met them._

_He sighs and presses another kiss to his mark. It’s not like they’d ever meet anyway. And even if they did, Bodhi can’t, won’t subject them to this._

_The mark is cold like it always is._

 

***

 

Something grabs him by the arms, yanks him up and Bodhi screams in pain.

 

“We’re not dying here imperial pilot,” a voice orders, harsh and angry. Bodhi doesn’t know who it is, but he really doesn’t care. He blinks, tries to push past the nausea and burning sensation around his body. He tries but it’s in the forefront of his mind, stabbing him every second. A moan escapes his lips as the soldier places him in the pilot seat.

 

“We’re getting out of here,” they hiss, their hands shaking and the grip on their blaster waning. Bodhi grits his teeth and breathes through is pain. Each inhale rattles something inside of him and Bodhi can feel himself fading.

 

‘Just do this one thing,’ he thinks. Unbeknownst to him, his mark glows softly. ‘Get them and get out. Do this and you go to sleep.’  He blacks out.

 

***

 

_“What’s it like?” He’s three, staring up at his mama and mother with open curiosity. His mother pregnant with his younger sibling and Bodhi is excited. His parents joke that he’d grow up to be their fifth parent. Bodhi disagrees, he thinks he’d make the greatest brother ever._

_“What’s what like?” His mama asks; a smile curves across her lips and Bodhi gives an answering grin._

_“What’s it like having a soul-family?” His mother answers, her voice as bright as a sunny day. Bodhi closes his eyes and listens to its soft timber, almost loses himself in its rich tone._

_“It’s like being embraced wherever you go. It’s like flying high in the sky and knowing there’s someone right there beside you and others around you, making sure you don’t fall. It’s like being in the middle of a fire and being comforted by its warmth. It’s like when heaven and earth meet, fulfilling and encompassing. It’s beautiful and hopeful, love and understanding wrapped in a blanket.” His mother explains. She’s smiling so hard her teeth are showing and Bodhi, although he doesn’t really understand it, grins wide as well._

_“Do you think,” he pauses, his smile sliding off his face. His gaze falls to the floor and he’s quiet for a second. His mama and mother wait patiently, used to his penchant for silence and reflection. “Do you think there’re people out there for me?”  His mother crouches in front of him and takes his hand._

_“I’m positive little sunshine.”_

 

***

He wakes up to bright white and the smell of antiseptic. It takes a second for the information to reach his mind and Bodhi flails because he’d be damned, _he’ll be damned_ , if they take him again. Once is enough, he’s never going back there. Not if he can help it.

 

The machines around him scream as his heart rate picks up. People and droids rush in and Bodhi can’t help but flinch hard. His mind is a dizzying mess of pain and blood and _not here, not now, don’t you dare_. They try to calm him down but Bodhi won’t, he can’t.

 

Someone calls his name but Bodhi can’t hear, can’t sense anything beyond painpainpain and terror. Something pricks his skin and he fades.

 

‘Please,’ he thinks, mind half gone with fear, ‘please don’t do this.’

 

***

 

_He shivers all the way back to his room. His lips are tinged blue and Bodhi can’t help but flinch at every swoosh of a cape, at every rasp. Bodhi places one foot in front of the other, head down and eyes half closed. No one stops him, no one looks in his direction, but Bodhi hunches in on himself anyway. He enters his room, happy no one else is there and collapses into his bed. His hand touches his wrist, breath hitching when he notices how cold it’s become._

_‘Please,’ he thinks, tears cascading down his face and landing on his pillow, ‘please don’t leave me too.’_

_The mark stays cold._

 

***

 

He wakes up alone, the only sound in his room is the steady beep of the machine next to him. Bodhi stares at it, his eyes dull and face blank. He doesn’t know how long he stares at it, minutes, hours maybe, but eventually the door opens. Blinking, Bodhi turns to stare at the doctor in front of him.

 

“You gave us quite a scare,” the doctor states, but it’s muffled, as though they’re talking through cotton. Bodhi blinks again and goes to nod, stopping when pain ripples through him.

 

“What?” He asks, the words slurring in his mouth. The doctor nods their head, as though they thought this would happen. They come up to him and attach something to the back of his right ear. He can hear slightly better, although it’s still sort of muffled.

 

“That should help some.” They say smiling.

 

“You shouldn’t be moving yet,” the doctor explains, going to help him. They smile at him again and Bodhi grimaces back.

 

“Where,” he rasps and then stops. Clench his teeth at the pain, Bodhi happily accepts the water placed in front of his lips. “What happened?” The doctor smiles again and Bodhi really wishes they would stop doing that.

 

“You did it, you got the plans out.” They say, their eyes glittering as they wait for his reaction. Intense relief and dizzying happiness and bitter satisfaction courses through him. A grin twists across his face and Bodhi doesn’t care how much it hurts. It slides off his face though when something else occurs to him.

 

“And the others?” The doctor goes silent and Bodhi swallows through the lump in his throat.

 

“There were casualties. Only a few, yourself included, made it out.” Bodhi stops listening as the nurse continues. His mind stutters to a halt at the word casualties. It reverberates inside his skull and Bodhi just wants to sink into his grief and emotions. He’s failed. It’s all he’s good at, it seems.

 

“Captain Andor and the others are alright however, and were discharged earlier in the week. Which was a good thing because we were sure the monk-” Bodhi’s eyes widen and he turns to the doctor again.

 

“They’re alive?” He asks, voice breathless and filled with relief. He closes his eyes at the doctor’s affirmation. There’s nothing stopping him from being lulled to sleep and Bodhi happily does so with a smile on his face.

 

He’s done it and it’s okay if he rests now.

 

***

 

_“I want to be a pilot,” Bodhi explains. He stands tall, the stance adorable on his six-year-old frame. His papa grins widely and nods._

_“So you wanna be a pilot like your old man?” Bodhi smirks and points at his aunt._

_“No, I wanna be a pilot like auntie.” His aunt laughs loudly, a cackle really. She bends over and scoops him up and throws him up in the air, catching him in one swoop. Laughter bubbles up inside him and Bodhi lets it loose._

_“Any reason why?” His papa asks, honestly curious. Bodhi smiles up at him and shrugs his shoulders._

_“I just want to explore the stars.” That’s only half true, but Bodhi doesn’t tell them the other reason. He wants to learn to be a pilot so he could find his soul-family. Something tugs him to the sky, to explore the universe and Bodhi knows it would be best if he does so with his soul-family. He likes to think they’d approve_.

 

_His mark warms and Bodhi nods his head again._

 

***

 

He’s not alone when he wakes up. But the person in the room isn’t one of the people he hopes to get a visit from. The doctor from earlier grins down at him and Bodhi really wishes they would leave. He doesn’t voice his displeasure however, merely stares back at the man until he clears his throat.

 

“So,” the doctor begins, clearly nervous, “we didn’t get to talk about your recovery. You came into the hospital with severe burns covering most of your face, arm, and leg. Your ears sustained significant damage, you will likely never truly be able to hear in your right ear again. You’re currently wearing some. In addition to this, there was significant blood loss and lacerations along your right arm and leg.” Bodhi swallows as the list of his injuries grow longer, the doctor painting a grisly tale.

 

“What does that mean?” He asks, turning his head to look down at his body. Most of it is covered by the blanket, but Bodhi sees something gray where his hand should be and tries to remove the blanket. He’s too weak to do it and gestures for the doctor to do so. They don’t and Bodhi can feel his irritation and fear rising.

 

“What happened?” They hesitate and Bodhi repeats himself, louder and more hysterical than before. A part of him hisses about causing a scene, the rest of him doesn’t give a shit.

 

“I’m sorry. We did the best we could, but your arm and leg sustained too much damage. They had to be replaced.” Bodhi doesn’t hear what else the doctor says. All he can hear is the steady howling of wind and the low-pitched whine of a machine. His breathing is loud, against the backdrop of wind and machine. His hands-hand-shakes and Bodhi can feel himself fading.

 

“I want to see,” he hears himself say and watches, existing outside of his body, as the doctor slowly removes his blanket to reveal his mechanical arm and leg.

 

“It was difficult to get the parts to fully work with your body but we managed to do it. I’m confident that you’ll be able to get the hang of them in no time.” Bodhi doesn’t say anything, everything is too loud for him suddenly, the room is too small and he can’t breathe. He blinks, and opens his mouth, breathes coming out in short pants. He passes out a second later.

 

***

 

_“I hate them,” Asha hisses, her eyes bright with emotion. She’s sitting on his bed as Bodhi paces back and forth in front of her. He glances at her once before resuming his walk._

_“Are you gonna say anything?” She jumps off his bed and stands in front of him, hands at her hips. Bodhi just walks around her and resumes his pacing._

_“They’ve taken so much from us. Mama, papa, uncle Arun and now you! I hate them! I hate them!” Bodhi stands still, his back facing her._

_“I know,” he whispers, mouth barely opening to form the words, “I hate them too.”_

 

***

 

The next time he wakes, he’s not alone. Bodhi opens his eyes and turns his head to look at them. They smile down at him with equal parts relief and fondness and Bodhi can feel his heart swell at the sight. They’re all worse for wear but they’re alive and Bodhi wants nothing more than to hold them close and never let go.

 

“It took you long enough,” Jyn says, her voice confident even as her eyes regard him worriedly. Bodhi gives her a lopsided smile and shrugs, wincing at the pull on his muscles.

 

“It’ll take more than a grenade and blaster fire to do me in.” He tells her. She visibly sags with relief at his voice and Bodhi lifts his weak (fleshy) hand out for her to grab onto. She wastes no time, clasping his hand with her own. He turns to others, taking in Chirrut’s pleased smile, Baze’s content pull of the lips, and Cassian’s soft eyes.

 

“What happened?”

 

“You saved us,” Cassian whispers, his voice awed and humbled all at once. Bodhi swallows at the look the man levels at him. It’s equal parts impressed and caring and _something else_ and Bodhi has no idea what to do with it.

 

“Yes, I hear it was something else.” Chirrut pipes up, he pats Bodhi’s shoulder and Bodhi gives him a wobbly smile.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Oh yes, very heroic and daring. Quite amazing, I must say.” Chirrut states, completely sure of himself.

 

“Don’t give the boy a big head,” Baze rolls his eyes, but smiles down at Bodhi. He finds himself grinning back, a warm feeling spreading across his chest. It starts with his extremities and makes his way towards his chest, resting inside his heart. A piece of himself that he hadn’t known he’d lost, mends a little. It settles inside his mind, filling some of the cracks that appeared after his stint with Gerrera. Bodhi breathes and laughs along with the people around him. _His Soul-Family_ and Bodhi falls asleep with a smile on his face.

 

The mark on his wrist glows softly. Jyn places a soft kiss on the skin. Chirrut places a hand on his head, his other hand holding Baze’s. Cassian presses a kiss on his forehead and the grin on his face grows wider.

 

They don’t leave him alone. Each time he awakes, one of them is there with a cup of water and an engaging story, keeping him occupied as he gets used to his new arm and leg. They’re always there, sometimes a quiet presence when all he needs is silence, sometimes loud and boisterous if only to drown out the screams and wooshing sounds in his head.

 

They’re there on days where he can’t remember, can’t remember his mama’s face or his mother’s hands. On days where he still thinks he’s on the imperial ship, working for the Empire. They’re there on days where he can’t think past the pain, the rage, his fear and his guilt, where his paranoia meets his anxiety and he can barely breathe. They coax him through it and Bodhi in turn is there to listen to their fears.

 

***

 

Days pass, weeks, and then months and then something extraordinary happens.

 

He’s sitting with Jyn and Chirrut, laughing as the other man regales them with tales of his and Baze’s adventures when it happens. The door opens and Bodhi turns his head and stops, disbelief and gut wrenching joy flooding his system.

 

“Hey,” Asha says, giving him a soft wave and a wobbly grin. Bodhi doesn’t think about it before he moves, crushing his sister into a hug and holding her close. She lets out a large sob and Bodhi buries his head into hers and clutches her as tightly as he dares.

 

‘She’s here,’ he thinks, more than a little overwhelmed, ‘she’s here. She’s _alive_. Oh Force, she’s alive.’

 

“I thought-”

 

“I wasn’t there. I…I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and holds her even closer to him, words tumbling out of him too fast for it to be comprehensible. A hand touches his shoulder and Bodhi looks up and sees Cassian’s small smile. He turns his head to stare at the rest of them, seeing the grins on their faces.

 

“Thank you,” he rasps, unsure of who he’s thanking; them or the Force, but he says it all the same. “Thank you.”

 

‘Thank you for staying with me. Thank you for believing in me. For saving me when no one else would.’ He thinks, tears of joy cascading down his face.

 

‘It’s what family’s for.’ Their smiles seem to say and Bodhi lets out a sob and buries his head into his sister’s neck. The others join in until he’s embraced from all sides.

 

***

 

_He’s four, tracing the mark on his skin with fascination. It warms beneath his touch and Bodhi’s grin rivals the stars._

_“I don’t know who you are, but I love you anyway.” He whispers, the mark glows a soft green; Bodhi thinks they agree._

 


End file.
